Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Last night, while at Denny's satisfying an unhealthy craving for a greasy cheeseburger, The Boss and I were treated to a rather amusing show by some of the local crackheads. It was clear that he was strung out on something, as his pupils were swimming in a sea of bloodshot white. He was there with his girlfriend, who was equally as fucked up.

They staggered into the restaurant just after The Boss and I. As we waited to be seated, with the performers-du-jour standing right behind us, the show began.

"I love you," the male junkie (I'll call him Junkhead) said loudly. His voice was high-pitched and wobbly.

"I love you, too," replied the girlfriend (Junkette). Her voice was laced heavily with annoyance. She sounded like she was just minutes away from whipping out the letter opener in her purse and viciously stabbing him. (I imagined that she had a letter opener instead of a knife because aren't all white-trash murder weapons something surprisingly unconventional?)

"But hunn-neee!" Junkead whined. "I love you!" He sounded more like a spoiled, whiny kid in a toy store trying to wear down his parents resolve than a man in his mid-thirties.

We were eventually seated at one end of the restaurant, with the amorous pair seated at the other. Junkhead continued to talk loudly, pondering aloud about what he should order. With everything he said, Junkette told him to shut the fuck up. It was like a verbal game of Tug-Of-War.

During their exchange before the waitress took their order, the two kids sitting behind us with their father were enjoying themselves. They giggled quietly each time Junkette sparked blue.

"Dad!" one of them whispered. "She said a bad word!"

"I know, son. Just finish your dinner." I can only imagine the questions he'd face from their mother if the kids repeated anything they heard at home.

The Boss and I sat silently, pretending not to listen but listening intently so as to not miss a word that was said. During a brief moment of silence in the restaurant, I spoke.

"I totally got dibs on blogging about this."

The cook prepared Junkhead and Junkette's meal blessedly fast. Our meal was served shortly after, and for a while things were quiet. Our waitress came over to check on us when we were halfway through. As she left our table, Junkhead got up from his seat and approached her.

"Ken I git some more-ah deez... tings?" he asked, gesturing with something pinched between his fingers.

"More tomatoes? Sure," the waitress said. This seemed like it was old hat to her. Considering the part of town we were in, I imagined it was.

From there on out it was the same old song and dance. He'd speak, she'd tell him to shut the fuck up. The father and his kids left after a little while, the two boys giggling all the way out the door. The Boss and I conversed lightly in between proclamations of love and annoyance from the table furthest down.

As we were finishing up our meal, Junkhead and Junkette got up from their table to use the bathroom. Feeling playful, Junkhead slapped Junkette's ass, and hard. She whipped around and jabbed a finger in his face.

"Will you cut that shit out?" she yelled. "You're annoying me!"

"I'm sorree!" Junkhead whined, and stomped into the Mens Room. Junkette stomped equally as hard on her way into the Ladies Room.

Our waitress brought the check over while they were in the bathroom. The Boss placed her debit card on the check, and shortly after the server came back to run the card through. While she was at the register putting the receipts in the check folder, Junkhead emerged from the bathroom, his hands dripping wet.

"She an' I, yeah, we've been together fer 15 months," he said to no one in particular. "Yeah, we've been a cupple for almos' a yeer an' a haff. We's gunna get married soon, but weer takin' it slow.

Our server nodded politely, and brought back the check to sign. The Boss filled out the merchant copy quickly and put her card back into her purse. I heard a door squeak open and turned to see Junkette exiting the bathroom, urgently rubbing her nose lengthwise with her index finger.

"RAWR! Rawr! Imma T-Rex!" he yelled. Water flung from his fingertips as he grappled for her.

Junkette screamed and punched him in the stomach.

In unison, The Boss and I got up from the table and high-tailed it for the door.

"Come back soon!" our waitress called after us. I looked back to see her nonchalantly organizing her slips behind the counter. Junkhead had Junkette wrapped in a bear hug and was smothering her with kisses. Junkette was screaming at him to let go.

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Comments:

I have always thought that "Moon over my Hammie" was the BEST name for a meal! here is an example of why you are a great writer...you include the inflection of how they talk! I also totally cracked up about you telling the Boss that YOU had dibs on blogging about it.